


Things That Made You Mine

by Northernsociety



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens Fluff, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, Comfort, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gay John Laurens, M/M, Mentioned Marquis de Lafayette, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes, Slow Build, Tea, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Thunderstorms, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northernsociety/pseuds/Northernsociety
Summary: A series of chapters, each one looking at a different everyday object that changed the relationship between our favourite John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	1. Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be a different object and while they will be standalone chapters, they will kind of follow on from one another in the loosest sense. The relationship builds over the chapters, so some might be fluffier, some might be a bit angstier, but I promise lots of lovely lams.  
> I've wanted to do something like this for a while, so I would love to know what you think.  
> Rating may or may not go up, depending on how I feel for future chapters. I have a plan, but who knows what will actually end up coming out!

Alexander Hamilton paced back and forth muttering to himself, gesturing now and again as if to emphasise his silent point. John Laurens felt like his was watching a tennis match as his flatmate beat a path from one side of the living room to the other.

‘I hope the debating club appreciates your efforts,’ said John, as Alexander ground to a halt, his brow furrowed. ‘This really is something to behold.’

‘A flaw in the logic!’ muttered Alex, clenching his fists. ‘That line of attack just won’t work.’

‘Ooh attack. It’s all a bit…’

‘It’s all a bit doomed. Well, I’m glad I thought of it now rather than in the middle of the debate, with Thomas Jefferson’s smug face grinning its smug little grin. Smug git.’

John smiled. Smug was definitely the right word to describe Thomas Jefferson. He was Alexander’s most formidable debating opponent and the pair had been known to tear verbal strips out of one another for hours on end. John rarely went to the debates, but he often heard about them the next day when some of the more colourful insults were repeated ad nauseam in the corridors and lecture theatres.

‘I’m not even going to ask what the topic is because quite frankly I don’t have all day,’ said John with an affectionate grin. ‘But I know you. And if anyone is going talk circles around Thomas Jefferson, you’re the man for the job.’

‘You really think so?’ asked Alexander with a note of surprise in his voice. 

‘I know so.’

Alexander held himself up a little straighter. John wasn’t sure whether he imagined the hint of a goofy grin on his flatmate’s lips.

‘Anyway, I need to head off to the library. They have that book I need on French grammar. I’m sure you’re going to be wonderful – you can tell me all about it later,’ said John, clapping Alexander lightly on the back.

John found his shoes where he’d last abandoned them in the hallway and pulled on the old red hoodie he always wore when he was just sloping around campus. He was about to slip out the door when he heard a tirade of swearing from the kitchen.

‘Alexander?’

‘I forgot to buy tea!’

John giggled to himself at the distress in his flatmate’s voice. Alexander was barely human without his hourly caffeine fix. He’d moved on from coffee a few months ago after he’d spent several sleepless nights resembling a barn owl with his wide-eyed stare, but it just meant he drank litres of tea instead.

‘I’m sure you’re going to be fine! I’m positive you won’t just nod off mid-sentence because you only had eleven cups of tea in one day and not twelve.’

‘I’m glad this is funny to you, John Laurens,’ said Alexander, poking his head into the hallway to glare at John with comically pained eyes. 

‘I mean it is a little bit funny,’ admitted John. ‘But most of all, I believe in your abilities, tea or no tea.’

***

John exited the library, book tucked under his arm, hood pulled up against the icy wind. He’d spent a productive few hours writing up some research for an assignment and now he couldn’t wait to get home and have a nice warm cup of…

‘Tea,’ he muttered to himself, glancing at his watch. It was just after 9pm. Assuming all had gone well, Alexander would be finishing up his debate, hopefully having wiped the smug grin off Thomas Jefferson’s smug face in the process. He peered at the café just over the road, which looked as though it were still harbouring a few stressed out students. A smile twitched at his lips as a plan formed in his mind.

Ten minutes later, he was hurrying into the Washington Building where he knew most of the debates took place, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. People were starting to slowly trickle out of one of the large lecture halls, including a sour-looking Thomas Jefferson. John made his way against the crowd, craning his neck as he looked for his flatmate.

‘John! Hey!’

‘Lafayette! Seen your brother recently?’

‘Not since the debate finished. He utterly destroyed Jefferson. It was incredible.’

At that moment, John spotted the familiar dark ponytail and emerald green shirt emerge through the doors as Alex emerged into the crowd. People congratulated him and shook his hand as he made his way through the foyer. John suddenly felt very self-conscious. What on earth was he doing here?

‘Hey guys.’ Alexander joined them, his eyes bright with victory, a pink flush of excitement tinting his cheeks. Lafayette threw his arm around him, ruffling his brother’s hair.

‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ said John. He took a deep breath. ‘And erm, I got you this.’

He handed the cup to Alexander with trembling fingers. Alexander stared at the cup for a moment then his mahogany eyes met John’s. John tried not to blush when Alexander’s fingers brushed his, but he noticed the colour heighten in Alexander’s already flushed cheeks.

‘Thanks,’ replied Alex, allowing himself a bashful grin. ‘You were right though. I didn’t need the tea after all.’

‘I told you you’d be amazing,’ said John, returning the shy smile. The held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

‘That’s not to say I won’t be drinking this in one gulp,’ said Alexander finally, cracking off the lid and taking a mouthful with his eyes closed. ‘Ah, perfect. You’re so thoughtful, John.’

Lafayette stared from one boy to the other, at first in confusion and then in amusement. They seemed to have almost forgotten about him during this bizarre exchange in which tea seemed to have played a starring role. 

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said at last, no longer able to process what was going on. ‘See you in the morning guys.’

Neither boy replied or even looked his way. Lafayette shook his head in disbelief.


	2. Red

Alexander stomped home, his old trainers filling with dirty puddle water, his hair plastered to his forehead. It had been a long, disgusting Monday and the weather had decided to play its part in making his mood worse than it already was. Spring should have been in the air, but winter was holding on fiercely.

He dripped his way into the flat, climbing each stair in turn with a weary squelch. The lights were off which meant John wasn’t home yet. Even worse. That meant boredom.

He flicked off his shoes, shook his hair out like a dog and peeled his soaking wet jeans and jumper from his body. He hated the sticky feeling of his damp skin and the way his thighs had turned a mixture of purple, white and red due to the cold. He pulled on a clean pair of pyjama bottoms and…

‘Damnit!’

He had recently made a resolution to do a clothes wash at least once a week, but the emptiness of his drawer reminded him it had been at least two since he’d last motivated himself down to the laundry room. He plucked out the single threadbare t-shirt that lay crumpled at the bottom and pulled it over his head.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter – a message from John.

**JL: Lafayette is saying weird things.**

**AH: Is that newsworthy?**

Alexander flicked the switch on the kettle and busied himself in the ritual of tea-making. His insides flooded with warmth at the memory of John turning up with the steaming hot cup of tea after his debate last week. He had even been tempted to try and run out of tea again to see if he could replicate the experience, but John had been busy working on his assignment all week. That boy loved the library.

**JL: Weird things about us, I mean.**

Alexander’s stomach fluttered.

**AH: Us?**

He took his cup and a handful of bourbon biscuits and headed for the living room, trying to ignore the fact the hairs on his arms were standing on end with cold. Then he spotted it – John’s hoodie handing on the back of the door.

**JL: Never mind. How was your day? X**

Alexander put the tea and biscuits down on the table and extracted the hoodie from the hook on the back of the door. It was John’s favourite top. He’d worn it so much that the colour had faded to a dull rust colour – barely a shadow of its former scarlet glory.

**AH: Awful. Thomas J is a shit x**

His fingers hovered over the x, but John had put one so he decided it would be rude not to. Why wasn’t John wearing his beloved hoodie? Maybe even he had had the sense to wear something waterproof instead of this flimsy thing.

**JL: I won’t argue with that. I’ll be home soon. We can talk then xx**

Alexander put his arms into the sleeves, pulling the worn fabric up on to his shoulders. It was a touch too big for him – John was ever so slightly taller and broader – but it was still surprisingly warm and thick for such an old garment. He told himself he would just keep it on for ten minutes until he’d warmed up and put it back where he’d found it. He didn’t want John to mock him over his laundry relapse.

He sunk down on to the sofa and shoved a whole bourbon biscuit into this mouth, trying not to exhale crumbs all over himself. Today had been the worst, but he was finally home, starting to dry off and warm up. Even Thomas Jefferson and his stupid argumentative ways couldn’t bother him here.

He pulled John’s hoodie tighter around himself, flipping the hood up and snuggling himself down into the soft fabric that smelled so much of John. Alexander inhaled deeply, trying to identify each element of John’s scent. That musky aftershave, a touch of citrus shampoo and maybe a tiny bit of old tobacco.

Alexander closed his eyes, only for a brief moment. And then…

‘Wakey, wakey. You won’t sleep tonight if you sleep now, and I’m not having you pacing the flat all night. Erm, is that my hoodie?’

Alexander sat up and blinked a few times. It was John, clattering his way into the flat in the similar soggy way Alexander had done half an hour earlier.

‘Crap. Must have dozed off,’ said Alex, rubbing his hand over his face. ‘Here, take it…’

‘Don’t be daft.’

John put a hand on Alexander’s to stop him unfastening the zip. He was still freezing from the wintery deluge outside and before Alexander could stop himself, he clasped both of John’s hands in his.

‘You’re freezing.’

‘That’s what the cold weather does to you,’ said John teasingly, but he didn’t move his hands. His eyes roved over Alexander, still snuggled up in his hoodie. ‘It suits you more than me. Keep it if you want.’

‘I only borrowed it for a few minutes, John. It’s your favourite jacket!’

‘Fine, but you can… you can wear it whenever you want.’ A vivid blush crept up John’s neck, across his cheeks and ears.

Alex nodded. ‘Thanks.’

John took a last appraising look at Alex in the slightly-too-big hoodie and gently pulled his hands away. He hoped the next time he wore it, it would smell of Alexander.


	3. Thunder

The spring weather had arrived at last, and with it came thunderstorms. Lightening flashed in brilliant arcs across the sky and the thunder rumbled so loudly the windows vibrated in their frames. John sighed and put down his pen. It was no use trying to concentrate when God was having a disco outside.

‘John?’

A feeble voice from the other side of the door caught his attention. 

‘Hey, Alexander?’

He swung open the door to find his flatmate, looking less than his usual enthusiastic, upright self. Alexander was wearing pyjama bottoms and John’s old red hoodie. John was secretly pleased. If he wore it to lectures in the morning, he would have Alexander’s scent linger with him all day long.

‘Can I stay in here for a little while?’

Alexander’s eyes were big and chocolate brown, and John wondered if he knew he resembled a lost puppy. There was a tremor to his voice and see a slight shake in his hands. John had seen him suffer like this before – the signs were all too familiar.

John cleared a pile of laundry from his bed. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a moment.’

Alexander nodded, curling up in the newly empty spot on the single bed as John busied himself tidying the room. 

‘You alright?’ John asked softly as another clap of thunder reverberated through the night sky. He saw Alexander nod, curling up even smaller. John threw the last of his socks haphazardly into the nearest draw and then crawled onto the bed next to his flatmate. There wasn’t much space for both of them. ‘It’ll be over soon, you’ll see. Come on, move up.’

John guided Alexander up towards the pillow, noticing his cheeks were damp, a few strands of hair sticking to the tears as he unfolded himself into John’s arms. John tugged the duvet over them both, never letting go of Alexander throughout all his rearranging. Once they were both under the covers, John pulled Alexander to him, holding his flatmate against his chest, gently wiping his face dry with the pads of his thumbs. He knew Alexander hated storms, but he also knew how he hated anyone to know that about him.

‘Sorry,’ muttered Alexander. ‘Did I stop you from studying?’

‘I couldn’t concentrate anyway,’ said John. ‘And don’t be silly. You’re always welcome here, you know that.’  
It wasn’t the first time Alexander had ended up in John’s bed during a thunderstorm. In fact, it had become something of a ritual. At the first rumble of thunder, John always had one ear open for the inevitable timid tap on his door.

‘I don’t want to keep you awake.’

‘I told you, I don’t mind.’

The first time it happened, John hadn’t been sure what to do. He wasn’t used to sharing his bed and he didn’t know how much space Alexander would expect. Did he want to be comforted? Did he want to be touched? Or did he simply just want the company of another person in the room? But the whimpering and trembling that each crack of thunder or flash of lightening elicited from his flatmate made it increasingly difficult for John to keep his distance. And Alexander never pushed him way. 

Another flash of lightning caused Alexander to flinch violently in John’s arms and he trembled throughout the accompanying rumble of thunder. John held him tighter, resting his chin on top of Alexander’s head, breathing in the coconut scent of his shampoo. Alexander curled his fists into John’s pyjama top, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

‘Please don’t tell my brother,’ whispered Alexander. ‘He thinks I’m over this now, since I stopped going to his every time there was a storm.’

‘You used to go to Lafayette’s?’

‘Yeah, I always checked the forecast. Nobody else knows, so I had nowhere else to go. And I can’t stand to be alone.’

‘I’m sure he’d have something to say if he knew where you were going instead,’ teased John. 

Alexander smiled up at John. Their faces were tantalisingly close and John wanted nothing more than to taste Alexander’s lips. 

‘Tell me about the storm before you came here,’ said John at last, in an attempt to break the tension before he was compelled to do something that might ruin their friendship forever.

‘It was hell on Earth. I thought I was going to die. Everyone around me was screaming. The houses were being ripped straight out of the ground and I was completely on my own. I didn’t know what to do other than try to block out the noise. Debris was flying through the air. The sky was constantly lit up with lightening. I don’t know how, but somehow I survived. And then they discovered I could write well. Everyone got together and managed to get me a place to study here.’

John squeezed Alexander even closer. He had heard Alexander and Laf talk about a big storm that had brought Alexander to them, but he hadn’t known the full story. John almost felt angry at the thunder raging above them for bringing those memories back to his flatmate.

‘Well, you have me to look after you now,’ he whispered. 

‘And what about when you get a girlfriend? I’m not sure there’s space for three of us in this single bed,’ giggled Alexander, although John heard a hint of seriousness that made his heart flutter. Alexander was truly worried about this.

‘I don’t think that will ever be an issue,’ said John in what he hoped was an ambiguous tone. ‘And anyway, you’re much more popular with the ladies. I’ve heard you’re quite the heartthrob after your recent public humiliation of Thomas Jefferson.’

‘Apparently so,’ said Alexander with a frown. ‘None of them are quite my type.’

John detected an ambiguity in Alexander’s statement that matched his own, and this time when Alexander turned his face towards him, there was no doubt in John’s mind as to what was about to happen. All at once, he found Alexander’s lips on his. It was the softest of kisses, salty with Alexander’s tears, but the sweetest thing John had ever known. 

Alexander’s eyes drifted shut as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving from John’s shirt to the back of his neck. This time, when the thunder roared above them, Alexander didn’t even flinch.


	4. Champagne

‘You have never tasted champagne?’ said John, blinking several times in disbelief. ‘As in, you, Alexander Hamilton?’

Alexander laughed. ‘No, I’ve never had champagne.’

‘But aren’t you meant to be all cultured and refined? Like you do all the debating and you go to a book club for heaven’s sake.’

‘Just because I like to argue and read doesn’t mean I’ve had the fortune to taste fine champagne, John. It was hardly on tap in St. Croix.’

John continued to frown at his flatmate for a moment or two longer until he felt a bony arm around his shoulder and heard the gleeful voice of Lafayette in his ear.

‘Ah, two of my favourite people. I hope you’re enjoying my little party!’

John looked around. It was hardly what he would call a ‘little’ party, but by Lafayette’s standards, he supposed it was fairly tame. The living room was packed with people, none of whom John recognised other than Laf and Alexander. There was music blasting from a speaker somewhere in the corner and the drinks were flowing heavily. No one was vomiting yet, but judging by some of the vacant expressions and wobbly legs, it was probably only a matter of time.

‘Answer this for me, Laf,’ said John. ‘How come your brother has never had champagne? Surely a cultured character such as yourself…’

‘Steady on, John. You’ll make me blush!’ Lafayette fanned himself, giving John a coquettish pout.

‘Honestly, it’s no big deal,’ said an exasperated Alexander. ‘We can get some on the way home if you’re so desperate for me to try it.’

Lafayette flashed a wicked grin. ‘Champagne is an aphrodisiac, you know.’

‘Your point?’ Alexander did an applaudable effort of remaining stone-faced, but a pink tinge crept across his cheeks.

‘No point at all,’ replied Lafayette casually. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and say hello to a few more people. Catch you guys later.’

Lafayette glided away leaving Alexander pink-faced.

‘Do you think he suspects something?’ asked John, watching Laf work the crowd on the other side of the room.

‘Of course he does. Even when there’s nothing to suspect, he’ll make a neon green flashing mountain out of an invisible molehill.’

John winced internally at Alexander’s interpretation that there was nothing to suspect. The morning after the storm, they had awoken sleepily in each other’s arms, blissful and content. But since then, Alexander had been out of the house almost every evening, debating or studying or doing whatever else he did in his spare time. John had tried to talk to him, but Alexander had always shut down the conversation. This was the first time they’d spent any length of time together since that morning and it was so painfully normal John thought he might scream.

‘Listen, Alexander…’

‘John, please. Not now.’

John bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself pressing further on with the conversation. If not now, then when he wanted to shout, but instead he took another big gulp of punch. He had no idea what was in it, but the burning in his throat suggested it was more than fruit juice.

‘Hey, is that Thomas Jefferson?’ Alexander whispered, grabbing John’s wrist. It took all of John’s efforts not to pull away from the contact that set his skin alight. ‘I’m surprised he has the nerve…’

John noticed a few heads turn towards the door as Thomas Jefferson strutted in, proud as a peacock.

‘I’m surprised he was invited,’ said John, feeling a sudden exhaustion creep over him. ‘Look, I think I’m going to head home. This is just going to get wild now that Jefferson is here. And I’m not spending all evening refereeing a slanging match between you two.’

‘No, wait. I’m coming with you,’ said Alexander, setting his cup down on the mantelpiece behind him. 

‘Really?’ said John, perplexed. He had assumed Alexander wouldn’t bow out of the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with Jefferson. Especially not if the alternative was an evening at home, just the two of them. 

‘Let’s go,’ said Alexander. ‘I’m so tired from this week. I can’t face more Thomas Jefferson than I realistically need to. He’s been trying to get me in trouble, so I don’t think I should give him any ammunition.’

‘Fair,’ said John with a shrug, leading the way to the front door.

‘By the way,’ said Alexander as they reached the muggy warmth of the street, ‘I hope you know I wasn’t joking when I said we could grab a bottle of champagne on the way home.’ 

***

John pulled the cork from the bottle, wincing at the popping sound, trying not to drip too much fizz all over the floor.

‘This is a bit extravagant,’ he said, pouring two large glasses. They only had wine glasses in the flat, but Alexander had insisted that didn’t matter. ‘I wouldn’t normally spend this much on alcohol in a whole term!’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Alexander, clinking his glass against John’s. ‘I barely drink and my idea of a hobby is kicking Jefferson’s arse in a debate and that’s free. So this is my treat.’

‘And? Do you like it?’

‘It’s nice,’ replied Alexander. ‘I don’t think I’ll be drinking it daily with breakfast, but I’m glad I’ve tried it now.’

John struggled to find another topic of conversation to fill the ensuing silence, wondering why he suddenly found it so difficult to talk to the boy he’d been living with for the best part of a year. What did they used to talk about? Before the storm, that is. They hadn’t talked in nearly a week.

‘Look, Alex…’

‘No, don’t say anything John. I know what you’re going to say. I want to say something first.’

‘Go on,’ said John tentatively, watching Alexander take a big gulp of champagne that nearly drained his glass.

‘I’m really sorry about what happened the other night. I should have gone to Laf’s instead. I never meant to put you in an awkward position. But I did, and I’m sorry.’

‘No need to apologise,’ said John, even more confused by Alexander’s statement. ‘I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t mind.’

‘But I crossed a boundary. I should never have kissed you. Lafayette has been saying some really confusing things, and it got in my head. I don’t know what I was thinking…’

‘Wait,’ said John, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow. It’s quite straightforward as far as I see it. Did you want to kiss me?’

Alexander flushed scarlet as he took another great big gulp of champagne.

‘Alexander?’

The other boy nodded, looking as though he was about to cry. He reached for the champagne bottle with trembling fingers and tried to pour himself another glass.

‘Come here,’ said John softly, taking the bottle out of Alexander’s hand and finishing the task with much less mess. ‘Why did you ignore me for a week then?’

Alexander looked at John with wide eyes. ‘Because I thought you hated me. I wormed my way into your bed and then kissed you. I know I’m impulsive sometimes but I just need to…’

‘Alex,’ said John, interrupting the flow of rambling speech he knew was about to come. ‘What if I told you I wanted to kiss you too? What if I told you I’ve wanted to for a long time?’

Alexander stared at John stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times but didn’t seem to be able to find the words. 

‘A night of firsts,’ declared John, pointing at the champagne bottle and the speechless Alexander. ‘Never thought I’d see you struggle to find something to say.’

‘I just never thought someone like you would want someone like me. I’m loud, I talk too much, I’m obsessive, I like those shouty debates you hate. You’re kind and quiet and strong.’

John put his champagne down on the coffee table. ‘I thought you were avoiding me all week.’

‘I kind of was. I woke up that morning and couldn’t believe what I’d done.’

‘What _we’d_ done, Alexander,’ corrected John. ‘I kissed you back, if I remember rightly. Quite intensely.’

Alexander was still looking at John with fear in his eyes, as if he might just disappear in a puff of smoke. He’d been so convinced he’d done something wrong and that John would hate him. It was almost too much to comprehend that, not only did John not hate him, he seemed to have _enjoyed_ what had happened between them. Was that possible?

As if to answer Alexander’s chaotic thought process, John reached his hand out to bridge the gap between them. He gently stroked Alexander’s cheek before tilting his flatmate’s face up towards him, looking him directly in the eye.

‘For someone so cocky on the floor during a debate, you’re endearingly shy in matters of the heart,’ said John. ‘Just tell me if you want me to stop.’

For the second time that week, Alexander felt John’s lips against his. This time, he wasn’t shaking in fear, trying to survive the storm. This time he could take it all in – the softness of John’s breath against his lips, the fine taste of champagne. His eyes drifted shut as he lost himself to all these new and wonderful sensations. He didn’t know what this was or what it meant. All he knew was there was nowhere else he’d rather be than greedily stealing kisses from John as if they were the air he needed to breathe.


End file.
